Here's a bleaker poem, written (as you might guess) while I had a fever last week.
and fire is just rapid rust,
then life is merely a fever dream,
a global warming,
feeding on nothing but
failing flesh and drifting dust.
Oxidation
If breathing is but slow, slow
burningand fire is just rapid rust,
then life is merely a fever dream,
a global warming,
feeding on nothing but
failing flesh and drifting dust.
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